The Glory of the Garden
by BeautifulEdwardChallenge
Summary: by TeamEdward-TSA *2nd Place tie* When Bella visits Uncle Charlie's country house, unexpected delights await her in the English country garden. Beautiful Edward Challenge Anonymous Entry.


**Beautiful Edward Challenge Anonymous Entry**

**Story title: **The Glory of The Garden  
**Summary: **When Bella visits Uncle Charlie's country house, unexpected delights await her in the English country garden  
**Word count: **3343  
**Disclaimer: **Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. I own an English country garden. Thems the breaks.

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**The Glory of The Garden**

_Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made__  
__By singing:-"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,_

_From "The Glory of The Garden" by Rudyard Kipling_

_www . happychild . org . uk / nvs / cont / poems / garden . htm_

The sound of the gravel crunching beneath tyres brought back so many memories for Bella. As the Daimler glided up the shingled driveway her mind drifted back to childhood summers spent at Uncle Charlie's house, roaming the expanse of gardens and playing hide and seek in the warren of rooms. She recalled how the squeals of childhood games travelled from the stuffy playroom in the Eastern Wing, echoing along the corridors. The sound would reach the attentive ears of Mrs Cullen, the housekeeper, down in the bowels of the Victorian wing. She would come bustling out of the kitchen and hunt down Bella and her summer friends, Emmett and Rosalie, ready to admonish them and pack them off into the garden.

In the garden Emmett would go in search of bugs, whilst Rosalie favoured the smallholding, relishing the role of chicken feeder and collecting eggs for her mother to use in the kitchen. Bella was always more interested in the Rose Garden, the kaleidoscope of colours and sweet perfume entrancing her. She would shadow Mr McCarty, the gardener, and badger him for seeds and pots, a little patch of garden, or just pester him with questions about all the different plants in the gardens. Mr McCarty was a man of few words, but tolerated his eight year old protégé and encouraged her green-fingered nature, especially as Emmett, his son, showed no inclination towards horticulture.

Uncle Charlie's chauffeur-come-butler-come-handyman, Carlisle, interrupted Bella's daydreams with a subtle cough as he opened her door. As she gracefully stepped out of the car, Bella was stunned by the grandeur of the house. The large Georgian windows and neo-classical portico just screamed _Pride and Prejudice._ It had been nearly ten years since she had last visited, since the spat between Charlie and her mother caused a split in the family, and Bella's memories were mostly of the gardens or the internal features of the mansion. What a place to spend a week, she thought.

"Bella! Welcome back to Forks House!"Uncle Charlie's baritone voice boomed as he charged along the lengthy corridor. Bella had to blink several times as her eyes adjusted to the dark panelled interior of the grand hallway. Though in no way gloomy, the galleried entrance to the house seemed slightly oppressive compared to the bright May daylight on the other side of the huge oak doors. More memories flooded back as she hugged Charlie and thanked him for having her to stay.

"You're more than welcome," he chuckled. "And do stay as long as you need to."

"Thank you Charlie. I've only got a week's break from University, but I hope it will be long enough to finish my reading and get a good start on my dissertation. I just need some peace and quiet. I always work so much better in seclusion."

"In that case I shall leave you alone! No, seriously, I have a few matters to deal with up in London this week. I'll be leaving tomorrow, but don't think I am abandoning you here – the McCartys and the Cullens will take care of you. Business is business, eh?"

"Indeed, indeed." Bella replied, although she had little idea of Charlie's business arrangements. All she knew was that this house had been in the family for generations, and having hosted a few rock festivals in the 70's and 80's, Charlie had generated enough cash to keep the house running and make a few judicious investments.

"Anyhow, I shall make sure Mr & Mrs Cullen attend to your every need, my dear. If you want anything, just ask them." Turning to Carlisle, Charlie motioned to Bella's luggage, nodding his head towards the stairs.

Carlisle carried Bella's bags up to her room and filled her in on the news. His wife Esme, or Mrs Cullen as Bella had always called her, was still running the house like clockwork and their daughter, Rosalie, was doing well. Bella was excited to hear that Rose was nearing the end of her veterinary medicine degree, whilst Emmett was working as a cameraman for a company producing natural history documentaries, and that these childhood sweethearts had announced their engagement last summer. Mrs McCarty was still assisting Mrs Cullen in the kitchens and they were both looking forward to a Forks House wedding, and being mother-in-laws in cahoots. Mr McCarty was still tending the gardens, but as he was nearing retirement he had enlisted the help of a lad from the village, and taken him on as an apprentice. After checking she needed nothing, Carlisle left Bella to settle in, reminding her that dinner would be served at 8.00pm in the dining room.

Bella quickly unpacked her bag of clothes, stashing her t-shirts and jeans in the mahogany dresser and hanging her simple summer dresses in the immense Narnian wardrobe. She opened wide the sash window to allow the fresh breeze the flood the room, and lay back on the substantial four poster bed. The chintzy décor was not exactly to her taste but fitted the country manor styling of the house so well. Bella allowed herself a ten minute nap before getting herself up and opening her case of textbooks. At the desk Uncle Charlie (or was it Esme?) had provided a stack of paper and blank notebooks and journals, a new box of pencils and a plethora of Post-It notes. Bella dragged the plushly upholstered armchair towards the window and settled herself into the deep cushions, before delving into her reading schedule. She had a lot of work to do.

Bella awoke the next morning to the sound of sparrows scrabbling on the guttering above her window, their early morning chit-chat welcoming in a beautiful sunny morning. She climbed out of bed and padded towards the window. Uncle Charlie had put her in a room with the most amazing view of the gardens. She could see the imposing stone steps leading down to the knot garden, from where yew-lined pathways led to the walled garden to the left and the stunning rose garden to the right. Walking straight through the knot garden would lead towards the stunning parkland, through the less formal gardens, where mighty rhododendrons and masses of fuchsia mingled with wallflowers and numerous bedding plants. From her viewpoint at the top of the house Bella could see far into the distance, where parkland merged with meadow, the wildflowers beginning to sprinkle the fields with vibrant colours. There on the horizon was the pretty village church, St James', and Bella could just make out the roof of the Vicarage, where Rev. Michael and his wife Jessica lived. Charlie had invited them both to the house for dinner last night, along with Ben and Angela from the village shop and Post Office. Bella had the distinct impression that her uncle was showing her off to the important people in the village. Dinner had been a convivial affair, the warm May evening fully exploited. Pre-prandial drinks had been served on the terrace, and Bella took her Bombay Sapphire and tonic with her as she took a turn around the Rose Garden with Jessica and Angela. Over a simple dinner, beautifully presented by Esme, the men talked small-town politics and the ladies talked small-town gossip, the subjects often interlinking.

But now Bella knew she must knuckle down and get some work done. After a hearty breakfast of kedgeree (Bella didn't realise anyone still ate kedgeree, but Charlie was all about the Country House lifestyle. If it moved he shot it, had it stuffed and mounted in the Hall. If it didn't move, he had it painted in oils and hung in the Dining Room) she returned to her room and her studies. The hours flew by and before she knew it the lunch bell rang. Dutifully, Bella returned to the dining room, and Esme produced a wonderful pea and mint soup and some good advice. She suggested that maybe a walk in the park would be conducive to Bella's studies, some fresh air and exercise to enliven her body and mind.

The day had become overcast, but the blanket of dove grey clouds only served to trap the day's heat. A slight sheen formed on Bella's forehead as she strolled through the topiary of the knot garden and headed into the larger, free-form grounds. Here and there large flower beds presented swathes of colourful ground cover and striking features. Neo-classical statues littered the vibrant borders and a large fountain of water gushed from a trio of dolphins into the pond below. As she passed by Bella trailed her hand through the greasy water and felt her fingertips nibbled by the koi. The sundial in the very centre of the garden was redundant on this hazy day, but Bella still went to check the time, childhood habits dying hard. It was then that she spied the summer house, tucked into the shade of a mighty horse chestnut tree. This was a new addition to the garden, new for Bella at least, but it was so perfectly formed and carefully situated that it looked as though it had been there forever. Bella ambled over to the chalet and climbed the two steps to its balconied veranda. She tried the verdi-gris handle and found the door was unlocked. The large room was simply furnished, so different to the main house, with an unpretentious suite of cane chairs upholstered in a fresh cream canvas. On three walls beige roman blinds hung above simply glazed windows. Against the back wall was a large unadorned dresser, which Bella soon discovered concealed a well stocked drinks cabinet. Also discreetly tucked away on the back wall was a doorway that led to a small but beautifully appointed lavatory. All in all, Bella decided she liked this cabin so much more than her stuffy bedroom, and felt it would be far more productive to at least read here. In a snap decision, she turned on her heels and headed back to the imposing house to fetch her books, carefully shutting the summerhouse door behind her.

It was Bella's third day at Forks House. Uncle Charlie had left for his London business meetings, and Mrs Cullen was giving Bella plenty of space, whilst discreetly keeping the summer house supplied with all manner of edible things. Over an informal breakfast in the kitchen, Esme had delightedly revealed that Rosalie and Emmett were coming home for a couple of days, just to catch up with Bella.

As Bella headed for the summer house she revelled in the peace and quiet. Only the gardeners could be heard, strimming the around the parklands trees or netting the cherry trees in the orchard. Occasionally Bella heard the once-familiar sound of Mr McCarty whistling as he ambled through the garden.

For May, it was blisteringly hot. This corner of England seemed to have its own unique climate and this hot weather was unseasonable. It was a strange time in the garden; all the spring bulbs had finished, their green stalks drooping, heads shrouded with brown petals. But the summer had not yet truly arrived, bringing with it the vibrant colours of flaming June. This odd run of days full of blistering sun meant the cabin Bella had sought as a refuge from the stuffy house had become more like a sauna. Whilst the blossoms had dropped and the fruits were forming on most of the trees, Bella sought shade under an enormous horse chestnut tree, its branches still radiant with candlesticks of creamy white blossom.

Resting a cushion against the rough bark, Bella leant back and closed her eyes momentarily, enjoying a draft of cool breeze. Turning back to her book, Bella was soon absorbed in its pages, her hand sporadically turning to the notebook by her side, as she scrawled notes for her writing.

The sun was still rising higher, continuing to bake the soil and drive the small garden birds to the fountain for a bath. Only when the noisy crowd of sparrows took off en masse did Bella look up from her research. At the opposite end of the garden a young man had entered, and was climbing into a herbaceous bed. As he swiftly knelt to start weeding Bella was entranced by broad shoulders, encased in a dark green shirt. The shirt stuck to his chest in the heat and he lifted himself up to pull it away from his torso. The man's baseball cap shaded his face but from the edges poked bronzed hair, glinting red in the sunshine. He made no acknowledgement of her presence in the garden, so Bella could only presume he hadn't noticed her in the darkness under the tree.

Bella felt her temperature rising even more as she surreptitiously stole glances of the man tucked between the bushes. She was transfixed by the twist of his back muscles, defined in his sticky shirt, as he reached for and pulled up the weeds poking through the earth. She gazed intently at his long fingers, almost too delicate to be a gardener's digits, as he deftly deadheaded the finished flowers and tied the retreating bulb plants into neat bundles. As the man stood up and raised his arms above his head to stretch, his T-shirt rose up a little to reveal a fine trail of hair across his washboard stomach and Bella let out a breathy "Ungh". She slapped her hand over her mouth, too late, as the chap spun around to see who was there. Spying Bella near the summer house, his face quickly morphed from shock into a broad grin.

Then he winked.

Bella, mortified at being caught out, grabbed her books and dashed to the sanctuary of the chalet, letting the door swing shut behind her. Muttering "Omigod. Omigod. Omigod" Bella raced around the chalet, pulling down the blinds, before allowing herself to fall face down on the sofa to recoup her dignity. She was sure she could hear him chuckling to himself outside. Her cheeks were blushed, but she felt flushed all over. The heat on her face crept down her neck and further down still as she recalled the definition of his muscles under the damp shirt. The way his worn denims were slung over his hip bones. The way the holes in his work trousers allowed glimpses of the hairy flesh underneath. The way his neck muscles twisted as he reached his long powerful arms out. Now she didn't just feel hot. Now she was wet too. Looking up to double check the blinds were closed, Bella allowed her hand to dip inside the waistband of her jeans and stroke the soft cotton of her panties.

"Pull yourself together, Bella!" she internally admonished. Pulling her hand from her trousers, Bella scooted over the window and peaked through a gap between the blinds and the window edge. He was still there. His back was to her, but she had the strangest feeling he knew she was watching. Standing there, straight backed and solid amidst the droopy impatiens, like a statue. A marble god, an Adonis amongst men. "Bloody hell, Bella! Shut up!" reprimanded the little voice in her head. "Just get back to your book!" But the little voice was lost amid the throbbing need collating in her loins, and the rush of blood forcing lust through her veins. Bella collapsed back into a cushioned wicker basket chair and leant back, tilting her hips forward. From here she could still see him through the window, but knew he couldn't see her. As he slowly bent down to put down his trowel he provided a full view of his tight muscular butt, and Bella's hand slipped over her thighs, rubbing firmly with her thumbs all the way to the knees and back up. As he straightened again, he tilted his head slightly and Bella gasped. He _did_ know she was looking. "Oh, this is so hot!" mumbled the inner voice, defeated by lust.

His hands dropped to his waist and slowly, slowly he began to lift his shirt, inching it torturously up over his toned torso. Bella slipped her hand inside her panties and found her welcoming wetness. The combination of his proximity and the illicit spying made Bella desperate for release as she stroked within her lips. The young man outside lifted his shirt over his shoulders now, knocking off his cap in the process, and on freeing himself from the tangle of material shook out his hair. It was longish, floppy at the front, the mass of bronze glinting in the dazzling sun. Throwing his shirt to the ground he reached for his tool belt and sheathed his secateurs. Bella shifted her hips, gaining deeper access and rubbed herself with a firmer touch. Her other hand sneaked up under her shirt and into her bra, the dual stimulus as she palmed her soft peak drawing a guttural moan from her throat. The man then turned and walked into the flower bed, ducking behind the Beauty Bush, whose mass of deep pink blooms covered the glossy tapered leaves. The elegant arch of it

s blossom-drenched branches obscured him from view. When he reappeared from the other side of the bush, dodging a prickly clump of ceanothus, he was carrying the end of a hose pipe. He aligned himself facing the summer house and, bracing his strong arms by holding the nozzle above his head, he depressed the trigger. A fine spray of water showered over his stubbled jaw, and he closed his eyes as the cool water trickled over his features and trailed down his neck. The rivulets streamed down his chest, diverging around his puckered nipples, pouring over his defined abdominal muscles. Bella closed her eyes too, briefly allowing herself to imagine joining him in the garden, being showered by the icy water on this hot day. It gave her goose bumps, and a shiver of pleasure jolted her eyes open again. She refocused on the man outside her cabin just as he shook his head and sent arcs of water up into the air. His jeans were drenched now, and it became clear to Bella that he was enjoying this little show as much as she was.

Bella was close now, so close. The tightening coil at the base of her stomach was causing a physical ache. To have him touch her, to feel her in the same places, caress her as she was caressing herself would bring immediate relief. But a pane of glass, and social convention, barred them. It would be so easy for Bella to call out to him, demand he join her, demand he take her to the dizzy heights of orgasm. But no. Bella didn't even know his name. Peeking through the gap, she took in his tall frame and muscled physique, his torso rippling as he twisted his shoulders around to face her. And he winked knowingly. Feeling his unuttered permission, Bella let herself go, tumbling through the black flashing stars that crowded her vision. "He knows I'm here, what I'm doing. Just. Can't. Stop. So. Fucking. Hot!" screamed the internal voice, her inner self giving in to the groan emitted from deep within her chest. The primal passion immersed her, and Bella collapsed back on the chair reveling in her sweaty excess.

She didn't notice Mr McCarty come into the garden through the gate in the wall, shrouded in Morning Glory. It was clear that the young man hadn't heard him either, and both Bella and the young gardener jumped at the terse reprimand Mr McCarty barked out.

"Edward! What the hell do you think you're doing? Stop wasting the bloody water. Get it on those Ladies Fingers before they shrivel in this heat!"

"Ss...sorry Mr McCarty. Just got a bit hot under collar..." Edward trailed off.

_You and me both,_ thought Bella. _You and me both_.

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